Dear Father,
i have never loved healthy. there were many who held me down in the way only broken men do, but again, there has only ever been you, only you loved in a way that could never reach me. Women like me learn to love differently because of men like you.
Your withholding, it mattered. i didn’t know it then, but it mattered. and for that little girl, who was left to nurse wounds of feeling unworthy, it mattered.
from the time i was passed over, I have learned to love in a way that speaks differently. i learned to look for parts of me in men who talk like you, and behave like you. and i gave of myself, excusing every transgression, and loving through the dysfunction because i was too afraid to be without that stuff that felt like love,,,, but just wasn’t. i was too afraid to be with myself, by myself. I was afraid of how much it would hurt, afraid of what it meant. the finality of it. but it hurt to be loved by them daddy. and it hurt NOT to be loved by you.
and so i wonder had you spoken to me more, hugged me, held my hand in yours for a time, told me i was smart enough, and that i deserved something good, i could have grown into the kind of woman who didn’t reach for boys who masqueraded as men and wore your emptiness like skin. i would know love then. i, the me i was, am, and will be would know love. beautiful love. unwavering, beautiful, true love. not the selfish, fucked up kind that comes stamped with limitations and conditions imposed on four year-old me by he who could not see himself. or he who could only see his self. or he who would feed on my every vulnerability. or he who would take from me what he did not need. or he who would use me and go on to dispose of me the way small children do playthings they no longer have use for. or he who would take me off the shelf like a doll and play with me only when he felt like it. and me, i, who would let them. I let them. I let them. I let them. and when they were done, I would beg them to love me. literally beg them to love me. i’d go on this way for a time…consequence of the abandoned, passed over, unloved, fatherless daughter, i suppose.
© 2026 – SoulSequel
One response to “Write a letter for healing”
Dear Mom,
You took me in when I was a new born. You did not have to take me home to raise, but you did, and I thank you. You worked so hard to keep my brother and I safe and warm. Your punishments where harsh, but you had to impress on us right from wrong and you knew no other way. You instilled in me a conscience and a sense of the work ethic. Did you notice that neither I, or my brother, drank heavy or were tempted by drugs? It was because you taught us to not abuse ourselves with such things. You gave me a start, so that after I was 18 and in charge of my own life, I could make choices for myself.
Sometimes my choices were not good for me, but I always found the errors and corrected them as I went about my life. I had to learn some lessons the hard way, but that was just me. When I was growing into who I am today, I noticed that I was growing into your basic imprint. You started me out, but I am responsible and accountable for how I turned out.
It is come the time for you to look back on your life. Like me, you made mistakes, and you corrected them. You never got control of your temper, but it taught me to control my temper by watching your examples. You always did the best you knew how. You took in other people’s children when they reached the problematic stages and their own parents were frustrated with them. You took them under your roof and somehow fed all of us. That was a mighty task!!! Look how many of my cousins and the kids from our neighborhood think of you as their “Other Mom”? That is something to be proud of. All of your Grandchildren learned the same lessons I learned, and at 18 they had all they needed to get a start on their own life. You have done well. You can look back and be proud. As Mom’s go, you can see your work in the decency of all you raised. We are imprints of you, the template. You will die soon and so many hearts will grieve at your loss. I will grieve, too. When I want to see you, I have only to look inside of myself, and there you are. Thank you, Mom. I love you.